Vallyn Winters
''"A mask I wore as I approached, I was what I am not, And though the pattern was unclear, its meaning could be bought." ''-'' Sins of the Father - Chapter 2'' Sheet This is a work in progress, and I stole the template from Beryl's. It ain't done yet. Shoo. 11/7/3 Lalala Hooks and GMInfo *Character could not possibly be a less convincing liar. He doesn't seem to grasp the concept, and attempts at manipulation end poorly. Background We are, after all, nothing if not the sum of our experiences. When he awoke, it was to the sound of the hydraulic doors closing on the Greyhound Bus, and the ponderous rumbling with which it accelerated and departed the Stop. Raindrenched and weary, the boy sat up, feeling profoundly uncomfortable in his clothing as it clung damply to him. Deep red grooves from the slats of the faux-wooden bench were imprinted into his cheek, a casual reminder of how long he'd laid there. The things of which he was uncertain were many. Firstly, he didn't know how he'd come to be here - didn't know what frame of mind he'd been in that could have led him here with nary a recollection. Second, he couldn't recall the reason for the persistent throbbing behind his eyelids, nor could he identify the lurching feeling in his stomach. Lastly, he didn't even know where 'here' truly was. The surroundings were unfamiliar, as well as the terrain. All that was left, then, was the unshakeable feeling that something was terribly and irrevocably wrong. Unsteady on his feet, he walked along the side of the road, often iliciting honks of the vehicles that drove past. Whether they were kindly folk who were merely concerned about the wobbling manner with which he conducted himself, or whether they were simply amused by the sight of his nudity was not a concern for him. It was evening when the first vehicle slowed and started to trail along beside him. "You alright, hon?" It was a gruff, but good-natured tone. A big woman with a kindly face, looking out into the storm at the boy plodding down the lonely road with his unusually colored hair plastered to the back of his neck and his face alike. His response was muted. A puzzled glance in her direction. Eyes that didn't quite seem to comprehend. The big woman's brows knit, lips pursing slightly. "Well, not all at once." She muttered loudly, though she'd doubtless intended it to be under her breath. "C'mon, now. Stop." And he did. Standing still, the pouring rain cascaded over his scrawny teenage body. Before he could react, something heavy was flung from the window in his direction and - only by instinct - he caught it. "I don't know if you're drunk or stoned - that ain't my business, hon - but you don't want to be out here with those cheeks of yours hanging out, now do ya? Wind up with a ticket, sure enough." Her eyes steadfastly upon his, she threw the car back into gear, nodding resolutely. "Get yourself back home, now." '' ...home?'' Mutely, the boy nodded, holding the oversized article of clothing in pale, clammy hands. Home... "Lord, if it's not one thing in this place, it is another, now isn't it?" She chuckled wryly, and the car pulled away. The sweatshirt fit only barely - several sizes too large for him and soon damp with rain, it threatened constantly to slide off of him at the shoulders, sliding down one until he quietly replaced it, where it would then slowly threaten to slide off the other. Eventually, he ceased bothering with the garment, allowing it a permanent tilt on the side of one of his shoulders, draped halfway down one of his arms. Hours and miles later, the sky cleared and the rains abated - and on the horizon shone the full moon, obscured by the wisps of fog that rose off of the asphalt. The boy walked on. Personality * Clueless, and often unbelievably gullible. *Acts several years younger than his appearance implies. *Inquisitive and insatiably curious.